


Superior Bred Mer

by MissDelight



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Aphrodisiacs, Bondage, Community: skyrimkinkmeme, F/M, Femdom, Forced Orgasm, Foursome - F/F/F/M, Gags, Gang Rape, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-24
Updated: 2014-11-24
Packaged: 2018-02-26 20:55:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2666042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissDelight/pseuds/MissDelight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Legate Fasendil is sought after by the Thalmor for his superior Altmer traits.  The Imperial Army surrenders him to the Thalmor for breeding, unbeknownst to him.  Three young Altmer women have their way with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Superior Bred Mer

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for [ this prompt](http://skyrimkinkmeme.livejournal.com/4580.html?thread=9642980#t9642980) on the SkyrimKinkMeme.

Okay, a lot of alcohol later, I’m tackling this prompt head on.  This is my first Non-Con, please be gentle!

Let me know if I should continue.

\------------

Fasendil let his head loll from side to side.

How many drinks had he had?

He didn’t know, which meant it was time to get back to the barracks.

“You’re not leaving already?” Ruma asked in disappointment, placing a delicate hand on his shoulder.

“Stay a little longer!” Irien begged, imploring him with bright, green eyes.

“We’ll make it worth your while,” Mirie added with a sly wink.

He shook his head.  

“The undivided attention of three beautiful, Altmer women has been pleasant, but as I told you lovely ladies - I’m not a man of casual affections,” he said with a gentle smile.

As he tried to stand, he grunted in surprise as Ruma playfully pulled him back down onto the couch, giving Mirie the opportunity to crawl onto his lap, straddling his legs.

The Legate swept his gaze around the party, looking for help.  Any of his men would be glad to lend… any part of their body, really.  The three mer were impossibly beautiful, and they were un-shy in their desires.

Mirie cupped his cheek, forcing his gaze back to her before he could catch anyone’s eye.

“Where are you looking?” she asked with a demure pout.

The way she jutted out her lip, softly caressing his cheek, and gently pressing her body against him made him grow warm with yearning.  There was no doubt in his mind, it was time to leave, manners be damned.  

He tried to move Mirie off of his lap and a jolt of fear ran through him as he found himself only barely capable of raising his arms.  Beneath his pleasant drunken haze, there was something terribly wrong with his body.  With a sinking feeling, his pulse quickened as he cast his eyes around the small, private room.  He saw Lorwen, one of his auxiliaries passing by in the hall.

“LOR-!” he tried to shout, but Mirie covered his mouth in a rough kiss silencing him as Ruma giggled innocently and forcefully pinned his arms.  As Mirie caressed his neck with one hand, she gripped his hair tight in a fist holding his head still as he struggled against her.  He imagined to an outside observer it would appear everything looked normal.  He fought against the two women, trying desperately to attract help, his shouts muffled against Mirie’s kiss.  His body was heavy and sluggish, but he writhed under Mirie, trying to buck her off, or free his wrists from Ruma.  There were dozens of people not far away, he could hear them talking and laughing in other rooms.  If only he could reach someone or regain his sobriety enough to fight the two women off.

But there had been a third, hadn’t there? he thought distantly, just as something sharp pricked his neck.

“Do be still,” Irien whispered in his ear as she removed the needle.  Her small fingers stroked his hair in a gentle caress while Mirie bit his lip.

“You two get all the fun,” Ruma said disdainfully from her position holding down his wrists.

Mirie snickered against his lips, still silencing him.

“ _MMMF!_ ”  

His muffled shout managed to gain volume from the corner of his mouth as he wrenched his face away from Mirie, all the more desperately against the three women restraining him as the uselessness of his situation began to sink in.  Unable to silence him with just her lips any longer, Mirie took the opportunity to roughly stuff her scarf into his mouth as a makeshift gag.  Fasendil squirmed and shouted as she covered his mouth with her hand.

“He’s resilient!” Irien said with a low whistle.  “After everything I put in his drink, I thought he’d be out like a light by now.”

“His arms are getting weaker,” Ruma said, which he likewise felt.  “Shouldn’t be long now,” she added with a breathy sound of excitement.

“ _Mmmmm…_ ” he tried in vain, making any noise he could, putting up a fight despite the hopelessness, but he could barely make the effort anymore.  Once he lost the use of his voice and his limbs slackened, Mirie removed her scarf, tucking it into her purse.

Which was exactly when Lorwen appeared.  He could see the shape of his friend through a dark haze.  He tried to say something, tried to signal the other man, but his body was useless.

“Legate?  Hey, you good?” Lorwen asked, looking him over as Ruma and Mirie picked him up.

“Too much mead,” Ruma giggled, letting out a realistic drunken hiccup.

“We’ll take good care of him,” Mirie said with a mischievous smile.

Lorwen gave them each a doubtful look, then took two steps forward and snapped his fingers loudly in front of Fasendil’s half-closed eyes twice.

    “I’m taking him with me,” Lorwen said, pushing Ruma aside and assuming his friend’s weight.  Fasendil silently breathed a sigh of relief, grateful for his Breton friend.

    “That won’t be necessary.”

    Lorwen looked up at the the First Emissary of the Thalmor, Elenwen, standing in the doorway.  Her forced smile and sunken eyes sent a chill along his spine.

    “The Legate can sleep upstairs until he’s rested.  You can go on back to your barracks, Lorwen, was it?”

    Fasendil waited silently, unable to do little more than groan.

    Lorwen shook his head.

    “Thanks, but we’re fine.  Evening, your ladyship,” he said with a nod.

    He missed the almost imperceptible nod that passed from Elenwen and Irien.

    Lorwen let out a shout, whirling around on the dainty elf as he felt the needle prick his neck.  His legs buckled beneath him, and he did his best to support Fasendil as he fell, the two Imperial soldiers landing on the ground in a heap together.

    “I gave him a double.  I was going easy on the good Legate’s dose - didn’t want to damage the prize,” Irien said, while prodding Lorwen with her foot.  The splayed Breton spasmed slightly, but laid still.  “What should we do with this one, mistress?”

    Elenwen smirked at the immobilized figure in Imperial armor.

    “I do love a man in uniform,” she said in a husky tone.  “I haven’t had a play thing in ages.  Tie him to the chair in my chambers.  Leave his armor on.  Oh, and leave a bottle of that aphrodisiac.  I do want him to keep up until I’ve had my fun.”

    “Yes, mistress,” the three elves said in unison.

    “Don’t worry,” Ruma whispered in Fasendil’s ear as they hefted him up.  “We’re all going to have some fun.  And we won’t hurt you.  We just need you to behave for a bit, okay?”

    Fasendil tried to snarl a threat, refusing to give up, but his vision was growing dark.  Finally, his eyes slid shut and he fell into unconsciousness.


End file.
